


Not by Sunrise

by YellingAtPlants



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Bruises, Feelings, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Knights are dickheads, M/M, Merlin's Neckerchief (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), neck kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellingAtPlants/pseuds/YellingAtPlants
Summary: Arthur realises he hates the sight of Merlin in pain.Merlin is bad at hiding things.Nameless knights are awful.Merlin gets some love for once.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 627





	Not by Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I’ll get back to my other projects, but for now, take my impulse writing while I’m stuck inside

“I think we should show him where he belongs, what do you think?” one of the knights above him sneered, and Merlin realised belatedly that he was crying, tears rolling down his bruised cheeks as he curled up small, hoping the knights would leave him alone. It was late at night, the lower streets were practically empty at this time, except for drunken wanderers and Merlin. He really thought he’d at least get chance to be alone in the dead of night, but even here, at such an hour, the drunken knights had honed in on him as their target. Nothing new. As the highest ranking, skinniest, most outcast of the servants, Merlin received his fair share of ‘punishments’ from the senior knights. But tonight was worse, so much worse, and each time Merlin curled away from them, he felt a little more pathetic. To start with he fought them, even landing a solid punch square in the shortest man’s nose, but that had only landed him deeper in trouble, and Merlin was regretting standing up for himself at all. Every time being defiant made it worse.

“O-ho yes. He should be bowing at our feet. In fact, kissing our boots!” the other man laughed, a booming sound that flooded Merlin’s senses and left him trembling, unfortunately, beneath them.

“Kiss my boot, whore.” He grinned maniacally, and Merlin nearly threw up at the reminder of what everyone thought of him.

“N-no.” He rasped, coughing as softly as he could, his throat drier than sandpaper. Suddenly, a huge hand clamped around his throat and he spluttered, his breath suddenly stolen from him again. He squirmed as best he could, until they slammed him into the Inn wall, and he felt his shoulder crack. Unable to help himself, he whimpered, struggling against the obstruction to his windpipe. One. Two. Three. He gasped, realising with dawning horror he might not let go. Struggling harder wasted his precious breath, but he managed to slacken the grip enough to clutch at a shallow gulp of air. Being thrown to the ground jarred his shoulder again and he lay limp, silently praying that if he played dead, they would get bored and leave.

“Awww look, he’s finally cowering for us! Maybe if we carry on we’ll make a half decent servant out of him by sunrise!” as they were chuckling, Merlin forced himself onto his knees, breathing heavily through his nose as the smell of his own blood filled his senses. It was trickling into his eyes from a cut on his temple, and he began to fear he would die here. That couldn’t happen.

“I-“ he coughed raggedly, his chest heaving for any breath. “I’m the p-prince’s manservant. H-he’ll notice I’m gone!” he rasped, forcing himself to believe in Arthur. The harsh reality was the Prince probably didn’t even notice his absence, and by tomorrow evening he’d be replaced.  
The tears from before returned, and Merlin didn’t have the strength to even wipe them away.

“Really now? How about I leave him a message?” knight 2 sneered, and Merlin flinched before the man even moved. He was prepared for the clamp around his throat this time, wheezing out breaths that barely kept him conscious. They’d get bored. They had to soon.

“Tomorrow, servant, we’ll track you down and see our nice bruises. You dare show them to anyone- “ the Knight paused, running his fingers over Merlin’s neck in a way that made him shiver “Then you will wish I’d throttled you here you useless boy.” He was shoved away violently and the men laughed as they drunkenly carried on down the road, satisfied as they left Merlin in his own misery.  
Merlin remembered how to walk around dawn, his breathing shallow as he limped back to the castle, feeling vulnerable for the first time since becoming Arthur’s servant. He felt weak and alone, and when he snuck past Gaius without the old man noticing anything amiss, Merlin felt more upset than ever.

After washing up as best he could and using layers to hide his bruising, he headed down to the kitchens for Arthur’s breakfast. He made sure to collect all of the Prince’s favourites, and even went so far as to magic extra cakes on there once he was alone in the hallway, gasping qtly at the burn in his fingers. His magic had never hurt him before. He stumbled his way up to Arthur’s room and let himself in without a sound, schooling his expression into one of calm.  
Arthur wasn’t going to notice a thing.

Sunlight blinded him when he eventually blinked his eyes open that morning, and with a growl he immediately rolled away from the intrusive light.  
“Merlin!” the Prince groaned, pulling his pillow over his ears as Merlin- hang on. Merlin wasn’t making a sound, silently bringing his breakfast over, stoking the merry little fire in the hearth, stacking papers together, collecting the laundry. Arthur was used to the clanging and irritating sounds of Merlin going about their morning, and he realised to his own dismay he hated not hearing it. He rolled over, squinting in the sun to get a look around. His room was completely spotless, dusted, polished, his wardrobe was organised, his papers stacked, his chairs all neatly tucked under the table.  
It was terrifying.  
Cautiously, he sat up in bed, blinking in surprise at the dish full of his favourite foods resting at the foot of the bed, atop a polished dresser. And as if the morning couldn’t get any weirder, Merlin was checking the chores list himself. Usually, the Prince just made something up that was a little less taxing and sent the list down to the other servants, but now his lazy manservant was seeking out work? He frowned.  
“And what’s gotten into you?” he growled, because that’s what his morning voice did unfortunately, make him sound threatening when he was just trying to check on Merlin. Which was ridiculous enough.

“I’m not sure what you mean sire.” Merlin replied. There was so much lacking from that sentence to Arthur. It was like talking to a shell of Merlin, and he stared more intently at the raven-haired man until he began to fidget.

“Am I dismissed sire?”

“Dismissed.” Arthur narrowed his eyes in suspicion and worry as Merlin limped slowly out of the room. The other man’s expression cracked just before he left the room, and Arthur caught anguished tears in his eyes before the servant slipped away. He was genuinely concerned for him now, even as he dressed himself and ate his (rather delicious) breakfast, even tasting the new, unfamiliar cakes that tasted of freshly picked strawberries and peaches.

For the morning, he went about his usual routine, and at lunch, arrived back from training to find a bath and a plate of food waiting for him. He took a small step back in surprise, taking everything in for a moment.

“I’m sorry sire, is the bath cold? I’ll have it seen to immediately-“ Merlin headed towards the door, but not before Arthur caught his arm -noting the flinch that travelled across Merlin’s entire being- and spun him around until they were facing one another.

“What’s going on with you?” he spat, mentally cringing at his tone. As Morgana had nicely said to him before, he really was ‘emotionally constipated.’

“Sire?” Merlin returned. There was a quiver to his tone, and from their very limited distance, Arthur noticed dark bruises across his cheek in the vague shape of a large hand. Alarmed, he pressed his fingers to the servant’s pale skin and raised his chin gently skyward, finally noticing the bruises that spread down his neck.

“Neckerchief off. Now.” Arthur hissed at him, shocked by his own anger at the sight of someone else’s marks on Merlin. Somebody had dared to not only touch Merlin, but use him as a punchbag. “Who did this?” he whispered more gently, horrified as Merlin slowly pulled away the fabric that had been hiding the worst of the wounds.

“Knights.” Came the timid response, and Arthur felt his rage bubbling to the surface. His servant was never timid. Crude, sarcastic, incompetent. Never timid.

“Yes thank you Merlin. As in which Knights?” he carefully tilted Merlin’s head the other way, feeling his heart ache slightly at the way Merlin shook under his hand. Light as a feather, he brushed across the ugly fingerprints with his own hand, tracing the markings covering the pale expanse of skin. Merlin’s breath hitched and he quivered on the spot, but Arthur noticed with a dull sense of pride that he didn’t flinch away in fear. Holding one of his shoulders awkwardly, Merlin seemed to steel himself, taking a deep breath.

“Tall. Both dark haired. Bearded. Very drunk.” He rasped, and Arthur finally noticed the weakness of his voice. With one arm lightly looped around Merlin’s waist, he steered his manservant over to one of the chairs, pulling it out and gently pushing him onto it. Merlin seemed to relax, going slack into the chair and letting out a long, pained breath barely short of a whimper. Arthur’s heart clenched.

“Merlin. When did this happen? How long have you kept this from me?” he sighed quietly, careful to keep his usual tone muted in light of what Merlin must be feeling. The servant tried to shake his head and ended up gasping, eyes screwed shut.  
“Please?” with that word that tasted like sand in Arthur’s mouth, Merlin’s eyes shot open again.

“They said I’m....” he trailed off and nearly coughed himself off the chair if Arthur didn’t have one hand spread across his chest, feeling his shallow breaths.

“Merlin.” He prompted cautiously, murder at the forefront of his mind for whoever dared make his servant look so much different to how he should.

“They said I’m useless and stuck up and... And that you keep me around simply to warm you bed for you.” He stammered out, turning around and promptly vomiting on his floor, shaking and pale. Not thinking twice, Arthur scooped the poor man into his arms and pulled him against his chest before sitting back down, brushing sweaty locks from Merlin’s face with slow, deliberate movements. Slowly, the terror left Merlin’s features, replaced with a tentative relief.

“And they’re wrong. I keep you around because I care. A lot. And I can’t stand knowing they’ve hurt you like this. You don’t believe their words, you hear me?” he waited until Merlin nodded before gently stroking down over his face, thumbs brushing ice cold skin and skimming slightly blue lips. Arthur was ashamed of himself for not noticing all of Merlin’s signs earlier, but he was glad he’d returned to his Chambers for lunch or he wouldn’t have known. How long would Merlin have suffered silently?

“I’msorry I’m useless.” Came a shaky sniffle, and Arthur realised with a jolt that merlin was crying. Hot tears that contrasted the sickly pallor of his skin, running across the array of purple on his cheeks and into Arthur’s palm. Arthur raised a goblet of water to Merlin’s mouth, not moving it away until the man gently pushed his hands away. Sighing, Arthur placed his lips gently on pale skin, ghosted them over the bruises on his cheeks, then his forehead. A tentative smile appeared on Merlin’s face, encouraging Arthur, and the Prince continued, beginning to press feathery kisses to the dark colouration across his neck. As soft as he could make them, hardly noticeable unless you concentrated, which Merlin was, hooked on each of Arthur’s movements with wide blue eyes. Arthur chuckled and pressed a slightly harder kiss beneath his ear, revelling in Merlin’s happy little shiver. He went in reverse then, pressing slightly more pointed kisses over the top of each finger shaped bruise, carrying on with the motions until Merlin finally cracked a croaky laugh. The sound warmed Arthur’s heart and he gently hugged Merlin, avoiding anything above his chest. Slowly, Merlin returned the favour with one arm.

“I could point them out if I saw them.” The manservant eventually whispered, eyes bright again with the idea that he could do something. Arthur nodded.

“Good. You go get that shoulder seen to, and I’ll eat this lunch you’ve brought me on time for once, and then we’ll go talk to these ‘knights’ and have a pleasant chat.” The Prince pressed a last pointed kiss over Merlin’s Adams apple before gently wrapping his stupid neckerchief back over the markings. Merlin, bright eyed and bushy tailed like he should be, limped out of the room, looking like he was walking on air despite the awkward way he was leaning to ease the discomfort.

The Prince realised in dismay that the bath had long been forgotten and gone cold, and he didn’t even care. His thoughts had fixed on that little shiver when Arthur kissed his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, I love hearing from you! Maybe send me some suggestions!


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